My Lady Cleves
by owls-and-asters
Summary: Everyone knows of the disastrous meeting between Anne of Cleves and Henry VIII, but what if it had gone differently? Would this have changed the history of Anne as the fourth wife to the infamous king? Could she have been the ideal queen and wife Henry longed for? This is my take on what could have been the story of Anne of Cleves. Revised and rewritten from the original.
1. Proposal

**My Lady Cleves**** – ****_Part One_**** –**** Anna von Kleves**

**Chapter One: Proposal**

"Anna, Anna, wake up. Brother requests to see us," Amalia murmured against my ear softly. I groaned. It was much too early in the morning; the sun wasn't even out yet. "Come on Anna, he'll be furious."

I opened my eyes slowly and rolled to my side. "I hate him. Must he ruin our lives and our sleep as well?" I pushed the covers to my feet and stretched.

"He does the best that he can sister," Amalia quipped sarcastically before moving towards our old dresser. I yawned loudly and got off the hard and unnaturally cold bed to follow her.

"What do you think he wants us to wear?" my sister asked as she looked through our few shared dresses.

"We have to wear black Amalia, it's respectful."

"I know," she nodded, "but he has been wearing all the colors underneath the sun and yet we cannot even dare to do such a thing?"

"He does as he pleases." I chose the darkest dress I could find and turned to change. "Besides, no one looks upon it with favor. I know that myself."

"The maids?" she asked with a slight upturn of her mouth. I winked to let her know she was right.

"What about this? It's not black, but it's still dark." She held a gray dress at arm's length for me to inspect it.

"It will do." I told her.

Slowly I began to let my old, torn chemise to fall into a ripple at my feet before stepping out of it. I took the black dress and began unlacing the front and unbuttoning the back before putting it on. The fabric scratched at my skin and itched as I put my arms into the sleeves.

I let out a huff as it pressed upon my breasts and wrapped tightly around my bottom. This dress was possibly ten years old and it might have belonged to Sybille who was most definitely less endowed than I was. I turned around and looked at Amalia.

"Help me?" she muttered as she found one of her arms stuck at the opening for the neck. I couldn't resist but laugh.

"You're twenty-two and still can't put your arm through the sleeve correctly? Tsk, tsk," I clicked my tongue and Amalia frowned.

She scoffed. "At least my dress won't chafe my breasts."

"What breasts?" I rebuked her with a chuckle. She clamped her mouth with a loud huff and stepped forward so I could help her. I placed her arm under and then pulled down at the dress before holding the sleeve out tightly so that her arm might find it.

"Thank you Anna," she mumbled once she had fixed herself up. I gave a quick nod and turned around pointing to my back. I felt her cold, slim fingers begin to button the back of my dress quickly and with expertise.

"Turn around, time to lace you up," she ordered. I did as told and let her lace the front up.

"Not so tight," I told her as the bodice began to pull at my sides.

"Sorry but it's not me. The dress is just too tight. We need new gowns and soon."

"There's no hurry for any of our necessities. We need to survive on what we can."

Amalia frowned. "I know. There you're done. My turn." She turned around and I buttoned up her back. I spun her around to lace her bodice and I heard her giggle.

"What?" I asked her with a sharp rise of my eyebrow. My sister was ever the jester and could poke a jab at anything she found wrong with you. I had learned to keep up over the years but was still the cause of the majority of her laughter.

"Your breasts are up to your neck," she chuckled, "He's not going to like that."

I looked down and had to laugh myself. It was ridiculous. "I suppose he won't," I agreed.

* * *

><p>We walked hurriedly down the dark and dampened corridors before we stopped to catch our breaths.<p>

"He's going to be furious, we're late!" I exclaimed with a heave. This dress was impossible to run in.

"Careful there," Amalia said through a breath, "your chest is going to pop out."

I sighed, "Can we stop focusing on my chest and just move along, come on!" I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her around the corner. We came to stand by the great and forlorn looking door.

"I don't want to knock," Amalia admitted. Her eyes began to gloss over. Whoever entered first was going to get the worst of it, we both knew that. I took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I'll do it." Her eyes gleamed in gratitude as I positioned my knuckles and slowly flicked my wrist to gently tap on the wood.

I knocked twice and waited for an agitated voice to yell for us to enter. Both of us tensed as we waited. Instead the doors opened for us and inside we found our brother calmly sitting with our mother next to him.

I felt Amalia poke my back, '_What was that?' _she meant to say. I plastered a pleasant smile on my face as we walked in and curtsied. I felt two eyes bore deep into me; the ever penetrating stare of Wilhelm.

"Rise," he ordered. We both rose and then greeted our mother with a simple nod. Sternly she returned the gesture. "Sit," he told us again with the same even voice.

Was this all simply a trick? Was he going to start yelling as soon as we sat? I folded my hands on my lap after I had pushed my chair forward and waited, but he did nothing, instead he merely spoke up.

"There is news concerning both of you," he stated.

I closed my eyes briefly. Those young, dour maids have better not breathed a word about Amalia kissing the pageboy because neither they nor we would have the end of it. Amalia shifted in her seat possibly thinking the same thing.

"There has been a marriage proposal from England. Both of your portraits are to be painted for the eyes of the English king, he will then consider which one of you shall be the bride," Wilhelm finished with a stiff smile.

"Yes," my mother began gruffly, "and both of you are expected to be ready. For that you shall both receive a new and exquisite gown so that the king of England can see that we are not just some small duchy. The seamstresses have been called over to take your measurements. I could see that one of you is especially needed of a new gown to keep modesty," she said while eyeing me. I tried not to look at her directly and instead focused my gaze downwards.

I heard my brother snarl. "Modesty is to be kept all times."

"Maybe it would be kept if we received new gowns with each year that passes," Amalia murmured angrily. I pinched the crease of her elbow. She, out of all of us, should be keeping her mouth shut considering she might soon be in boiling water for a foolish action.

"How dare you speak when not spoken to!" my brother yelled and threw his goblet at her. Amalia remained unflinching. "You are to never speak in my presence again!"

I looked to my mother discretely but her face shone nothing. I looked back to my sister, her eyes once again glossed over but any tear she had refused to fall. We were too used to this, I thought, we were becoming immune.

Something that should never been done was exactly what Amalia did next; she stood and looked our brother straight in the eye before walking off and going out the room. It was a deep sign of disrespect for his authority. I expected him to start yelling and throwing things at random like he did most of the time but instead he sat down and muttered, "Insolent."

He looked at me and waved his hand dismissing me. "Go now Anna and fetch her, then go to your rooms. Both of you will not eat supper this evening."

I quickly did as he ordered and practically ran after Amalia and dared not to look back. Supper be damned. I didn't even want to spend my mealtimes with my mother or brother anyways.

"Amalia!" I yelled after I was out of my brother's earshot. "Amalia!" I didn't hear a response or her footsteps. I sighed deeply then I ran as best as I could to our chambers to avoid Amalia doing something rash like the last time.

I opened the creaky door and looked inside but she was not there. My mind was jolted for a second before I realized where she went. I hurriedly walked towards the dresser and pulled out a cloak. I wrapped it around my shoulders awkwardly as I bolted out the door and ran towards the back gardens.

I was greeted by the bone chilling cold wind and tiny drops of fleeting rain as I opened the heavy door to the outside to find Amalia seated to the left besides it.

"Amalia, come inside, you'll freeze here."

"Let me Anna, it's not like it matters."

I looked down at her with sympathy. Our father's death had been a hard toll on her whether she showed it or not. And our brother's harsh treatment only aggravated her fragility. She had once told me the cold was numbing to everything, but this was too drastic to consider. I couldn't leave her out here, she could die. The weather was already beginning to change as it shifted from the beautiful warmth of the summer months into the chill and rain of autumn.

"Get inside Amalia," I told her again with a firmer stance.

"No. He'll kill me. I was stupid; I don't know what came over me. I just did it without thinking."

"He deserves it." I told her. Kneeling besides her I rested my hand on her shoulder.

She snorted. "That and so much more." With a defeated sigh she took my hand and squeezed it. I stood and she followed my lead. "Fine, I'll go inside. Just protect me if he comes with a knife."

I brought her in for a hug, "I would never let him do such a thing to you, sister."

She sniffled into my shoulder as I pulled us back inside.

* * *

><p>I sat by the window and looked out to see a fresh mud covering the ground. I sighed. I hated the autumn months. We were truly trapped in a cage during the rainy autumn months and then the snow covered months. We didn't even have the choice of being outdoors to escape if only for a little bit of time.<p>

We had woken up early again to wait for our mother to come in and give us further detail into our proposals and to punish us both for our behavior yesterday. Although I hadn't done anything wrong, other than wearing a too-tight dress, by extension I would still be reprimanded. Mother could find a fault in everyone and everything and she had the same temper as our brother, even if it had muted out considerably as she had begun to enter in age.

Amalia paced around in front of me. She would get the worst end. Her shaking hands indicated just how scared she was. I could not find a way to comfort her and opted to just give her space.

I looked over to the cleaning maids as they talked in hushed tones among themselves. They were the older ones, the ones that had tended to us as little girls. We had grown fond of them and them of us, but we could not show it, especially not when the presence of our mother loomed over the horizon.

"Amalia, sister, come sit by me," I said growing impatient of her walking to and fro. She turned her head and nodded but her mind was somewhere else.

"Where is your mind at sister?" I asked as she sat across from me. She shook her head and looked down at her hands. "Tell me Amalia."

"Him, Anna, him. Anna, I think I love him," she whispered as she leaned closer to me and loose strand of hair fell over her face. I clicked my tongue and shook my head. "No, Anna, it's true. But we can never be. He'd be killed and I would be sent into a nunnery and spiral into madness. And what if I get chosen by the English king? I'd never see him again. Anna, it has to be you. I'd rather stay here and endure all with him by my …. side than live far away from him."

"Amalia …." I breathed. Despite me always saying that it was not really love that she felt for him I could not deny that her feelings were strong. "I … know." I took her hands into mine. "But, it cannot be and you must accept that."

She hung her head. "I have faith in God, Anna, and he will make it happen."

Just as I was about to say something the door opened and our mother walked in loudly and dismissed all our maids with a booming voice. We each curdled at the sound. We loved our mother but she wasn't always the most endearing woman.

She looked at us then with her cold green eyes and cleared her throat. We rose and swept into a curtsy.

"Get up my daughters," she instructed and we both rose. She took the grand seat by the fireplace and once again looked over at us. "I don't expect that the king of England will follow through with his proposal with either one of you." She paused and raked us each up and down with her stare. "However, we must pray that he will be of a light heart and of failing eyes."

I nearly sneered as she looked away but caught myself. Amalia curled her fists and let her mouth tighten into a little line.

"Now," she began again, "I am to instruct you of behavior and the English protocol if you are chosen and if you are not, then it will serve of further discipline. Which," she paused "should be given."

Here it was, she was going to use to punish us. And as if she had read my mind she straightened her back and curled her lips. The flames behind her head made her fading crimson hair glisten as if it were on fire itself.

"You are to never, ever speak to a man unless you are spoken to! And much less walk out when not dismissed! And modesty," my mother said turning to me, "Is to be kept at all times, put a shawl over yourself if you must! Where have all my years of teaching not been clear? Have I failed in turning you into proper young women? Maybe that is the reason both of you are unmarried and will remain unmarried! If your lack of looks weren't enough maybe your lack of common grace is!" she bellowed with a red face and with her throat vein pulsing with force against her thinning skin.

All we could do was look down and dare not to even breathe loudly as she calmed herself. She took in a deep breath and calmly continued, "Although, if the king of England likes a bosom he'll be sure to find one," she looked at me and I felt myself grow hot with blush. She laughed. "And if he prefers a woman with sturdy shoulders he has also found one." My sister looked down and closed her eyes shut.

Count on my mother to find fault, and the worst part, she wasn't even done yet.

* * *

><p>The seamstresses arrived late into the afternoon while were embroidering new liveries for Wilhelm's growing court. Mother was the first to greet them before we were introduced. Like most women the seamstresses were hard faced and without smile. Promptly and without much say we were stripped of our clothing so that they could take accurate measurements.<p>

As we were made to stand on little wooden stools our mother left without word. I could feel the tension rise from my shoulders as she closed the door behind her. I did love her, really, but at the same time I detested just how much colder she had gotten since father's death.

The seamstresses worked efficiently as they took our heights and widths. The problems came when they began to measure around our hips and busts. Not only was I of a big chest but my hips were rather wide. I detested them. They had scarred me with the ugliest of marks that I couldn't rid myself of. My breasts were also culprits of such a horrible deed.

"We'll have to work with your particular body, my lady. Not often do I see such a figure," my seamstress told me as she placed her measuring tool around my hips.

'It's not very wanted,' I thought.

"However it will make for a lovely gown," she assured me. I nodded without much conviction.

I looked sideways at Amalia who simply smirked in my direction. Despite her bigger shoulders, Amalia had the ideal body for the German fashions which I very much envied. Even Sybille had been the ideal. But then again, Sybille had been the ideal for everything.

* * *

><p>As night fell the air grew colder. We had added extra wood to the fireplace to keep it burning for longer so that the night would at least be somewhat warm. Amalia snuggled in closer to me and buried her face into the stiff pillow.<p>

"What do you think England is like?" she questioned. I shrugged. I hadn't the slightest idea.

"I don't know," I admitted as I pulled the covers a bit higher and curled my legs into my body.

"I wonder what the king is like. I've heard he's a monster. He killed his second wife."

"Everyone knows that," I mumbled and closed my eyes. The day had left me weary and my eyes felt heavy with sleep.

"But they say he was very handsome in his youth and tall, maybe even taller than you Anna!"

I chuckled lowly. "I've yet to find a man taller than me other than our father."

She giggled. Even our brother was shorter than me; I believed that's why he didn't really like me.

"When are we going to be painted for the pleasure of such a king?" she asked with interest.

"When our gowns arrive," I answered through a yawn.

"Great, we have something to look forward too."

* * *

><p>Hello again! I hope you enjoyed the new first chapter of the revised <em>My Lady Cleves<em> story. I'd like to thank everyone that took the time to read the original story and I want to thank all those reading this in advance! THANK YOU!

A special shoutout goes to **_Numa Hatem _**for giving me the final push into not abandoning my story and further giving me the spirit to rewriting it, thank you lovely!

Love,

Mimi (owls-and-asters)


	2. Sketch

**Part One -_ Anna Von Kleves _- Chapter Two**

**Chapter Two: Sketch**

The door to our private chambers opened with a slam, letting the cold air from the anti-chamber rush in. I immediately sat up and peeled my eyes open and shook Amalia awake. Mother casually strode in, as if this were a common occurrence. She let her eyes roam over on our sleepy figures before turning towards the window.

"I do apologise for such an early intrusion, but if one of you is to become queen she must learn to get up before the sunrise. Therefore, both of you are to awaken every day before the sun's first rays. Am I understood?" she questioned knowing the answer.

"Yes, Lady Mother," we said in unison as we pushed the covers down our legs. Mother went to sit by the hearth of the fireplace as usual and we both promptly got out of bed and headed towards our dresser.

"No, no. No more of that," mother announced. "You are to be dressed. An English queen never dresses herself; the maids do it for her."

Amalia and I looked at each other with surprise. We were to be dressed? We had not been dressed by our maids since we had each first bled. Amalia then closed the doors to the dresser and stood by it not knowing what to do.

"Have you no questions my children?" she asked with a smile. Mother was odd in that way. One minute she was mad, then she was calm and pleasant, and the next she was back to being sour. We shook our heads. Should we really question her after all?

Amalia shifted uncomfortably and I softly yanked at my messy plait. There was a tensioned silence hanging over us. By now we would have both been dressed by our own hand, but we still waited for the maids to come in.

"Oh," mother piped up, "I nearly forgot; your gowns have arrived earlier than expected. They are lovely in my opinion, but of course that is because it's just the gown itself. We shall see what both of you look like in them. That's why the maids are taking long, they are fetching the gowns."

I smiled despite her latter comment. Finally we would have gowns that fit us correctly! Knowing just how desperate Amalia was for a beautifully fitting gown she was likely to wear it every day.

* * *

><p>My new dress was indeed lovely. As Margaret came with it towards me I could already sense that the fabric would be soft to the touch. Margaret quirked an eyebrow and gave a small, fleeting smile. She had been my governess and my second mother; I loved her very much and felt elated that she would be the one to dress and groom me.<p>

She moved to set down the dress on the chair in front of me. Amalia's maid was doing the same from the other side of the room while mother sat in the middle and watched. I fell in love with the gown as I took in all the details.

The gown was a rich red with wonderfully detailed and thick gold trimming. The bodice, or at least the chest part, was made of golden velvet and a white lace was made to come out of the neckline all the way up to the base of my throat. At the sides of this were flowers made of teardrop pearls. The sleeves were long and they puffed outwards at the shoulders before being cinched in underneath. I was completely mesmerized at all the tiny pearls that were stitched in to the gold trimming. The look was royal and luxurious, something that we were certainly not accustomed to. I moved forward to touch the material. The velvet felt warm, and as I touched one of the sleeves inwards I felt that it was cool and breathable silk.

"I will marry this dress," I whispered softly. I heard Margaret chuckle softly.

"I don't believe that's a common practice my lady," she smiled. I had to laugh then at the silliness of my expression. Mother's head snapped in my direction.

"Do you like your gown Anna?" she questioned.

I nodded wholeheartedly. "I do love it."

She gave a curt smile and turned back without further word. I refocused my attention on the dress and picked it up.

"Do you want me to dress you now my lady?" Margaret asked. I nodded.

"Yes, of course. Let me step out of my-"

Margaret cut me off. "That is my duty now, my lady; you just have to stand still.

"Oh yes ... of course," I mumbled as she gently took the dress from me and slung it over her shoulders. I was amazed by the ease in which she did such a feat considering the dress was heavy, but then I remembered that she was used to carrying large baskets of meat and flour to cook for our meals. I smiled warmly at the thought. There were still rare times that we would go down to the kitchens and help out, but lately we had not and it saddened me for I did love cooking.

Margaret stepped forward to undo the knot of my chemise and then walked behind me to slip it off my shoulders. Very quietly, so that mother couldn't hear, she hummed my favorite lullaby. I sang along in my thoughts and felt a rush of nostalgia run through my veins. How I missed being a child; everything had seemed so simple and perfect then.

"I will, however, have to ask you to step out of the fallen chemise, my lady," Margaret whispered interrupting my thoughts. I stepped out carefully so as to not trip over. From there on, Margaret took care of everything. All I had to do was then stand still until I had to raise up my arms or turn slightly.

"Now for your hair, I suggest," but Margaret was cut off by my mother's rash interruption.

"Her hair will be up in a headdress I commissioned myself, both my daughters hair will be up in a headdress. I will not stand for such forwardness in a woman's appearance." She unfolded her arms and stood. Both the maids bowed and Amalia shot me a look. We were both thinking the same thing.

Hadn't Sybille's hair been left down to cascade in all its fiery glory? If there was something we all shared as sisters it was beautiful, thick hair even if it came in different shades. I put my hands on my hips and slightly let out a huff. But there would be no qualms and no disagreement; we had to do as told.

* * *

><p>"It is such a shame that you have to hide your hair in this," Margaret motioned to the heavy headpiece on the table. "Your hair is the loveliest shade of yellow. Not to bright nor too dark. Your sister's hair is also a very beautiful shade of browning red." She continued to pin my hair up and pull it back so that it wouldn't be seen. "One of these curls is being difficult with me; I had forgotten just how fussy your hair could be my lady," Margaret laughed and I let out a low chuckle. "I'm afraid I'll have to pin it down forcefully, so it may prick at your head."<p>

I nodded and then felt the tiny prick she had promised. Her aging hands then came over the top of my forehead and smoothed the small hairs that stuck up with a thin layer of balm. After she removed her hands I turned to look at the hair piece. It was adorned extravagantly with many small diamonds, so it glittered excessively. In front and to the back sides there was a tiny, transparent veil which I thought was utterly useless. Before I could further examine it, Margaret came to stand in front of it before I heard her pick it up. I wondered then just how heavy it must be and tensed my neck muscles. Margaret turned with the headdress in both her hands before walking behind me.

"It's heavy my lady, I suggest you try to relax so that the weight won't seem like too much."

I eased up a bit. Regularly we wore our hair in plaits that were either lose or pinned up, so we weren't accustomed to head pieces. The last time with had worn a head piece had been for father's funeral procession and those had been simple, not jeweled or complex. Margaret gently placed it on my head and her words rang with truth, it was heavy but not completely to where it hurt to turn my head around or to even keep it still. I was at least thankful for that.

After Margaret had settled everything down smoothly, mother came over and bid me to rise to inspect me. I prayed silently that everything was to her liking so that way Margaret would not suffer any reprimands.

Mother's gaze lingered on my face after she had traced me up and down. "You seem to compliment the dress well enough Anna," she murmured with an even tone. I simply bowed my head to acknowledge her words. "Now come along, you shall be painted first as you are the eldest."

"Do everything that the painted tells you to do. Pose exactly the way he wants. Don't move an inch Anna."

"Yes mother."

"Today he shall only be making a quick sketch of your shoulders and face, for a miniature that he is to send back to the king of his country. If he, the king, likes it, he will request a full length portrait."

I nodded once more. For once in a long while my mother actually seemed to be speaking, well, as my mother. The concern in her voice was something rare; she usually seemed to be in complete control of everything. Though I did somewhat understand her worry. She only wanted was best for us in our marriages, and by extent, what was best for the duchy in terms of political alliance. She as well as I knew that a marriage proposal could be broken in mere seconds, so this had with due haste and I had to be the walking example of perfection.

"Now, here we are. I am not allowed in the room. This painter requests privacy with only the person he is to paint."

"Only him and I?" I asked nervously. She couldn't be serious. A man alone with a woman before marriage? It went against everything she believed in.

"Oh dear, not like that. What sort of impure thoughts run through your head Anna? Thank God I know as a certainty that you are of virginal state; otherwise I would have my doubts. He is a married man, or at least was, but I've been assured that he is strictly professional and will not dare to take interest in you. Anything he does wrong will cost him much here and back in his country."

"I think of nothing impure mother," I assured her. "I know nothing of anything carnal."

"Close your mouth Anna, you and I both know those foolish wenches speak nothing but of carnal things and desires. You are bound that have heard."

"You undoubtedly have all the right of word my lady mother, but I know nothing physically of the act, there shouldn't be any doubt to that," I said with a firm tone.

My mother sighed in defeat. She looked up at me. Her green eyes held a sort of warmth. "I know, Anna. I know," she said as she took my hand briefly before opening the door.

* * *

><p>The lighting in the room was bright. I believe around a million candles were burning. I thanked God that it was cold outside so they only made the room bearable and not hot to where this dress would make me begin to sweat.<p>

The painter, or as he had introduced himself as, Mr. Holbein, was an older man with silvering hair. He seemed to be of calm manner and like mother had said 'strictly professional.'

I moved my eyes around the room. It had been made to accommodate Mr. Holbein and his large desk of paints and parchments. Mr. Holbein seemed to not notice my roaming eyes as he diligently worked on his sketch.

I had been here for quite a while now and my legs were beginning to grow restless. At least I wasn't standing as I thought I would be and that at least brought me some comfort. Holbein huffed as he glanced up. Had I done something wrong?

He stood and walked over to me. I kept looking straight ahead, afraid of looking at him in the eye. I saw his hand over my face then and then his thumb as he placed it horizontally and then vertically across my nose, my lips and my eyes. Then he took a step back and did the same, I believed, with my entire face. With a small smile he walked back to his chair and sat and began to sketch me again.

* * *

><p>So ... how was it? Please let me know! This update is both a birthday present for myself and a gift for all of you who want to continue to read my story!<p>

Love,

Mimi.


End file.
